


Complicated

by Jentrevellan



Series: Lyla Lavellan [4]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Inner Dialogue, Past Relationship(s), Realization, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Short One Shot, Surana mention, previous cullen/surana
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-03-05 05:14:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13380921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jentrevellan/pseuds/Jentrevellan
Summary: Inquisitor Lyla Lavellan considers the complications of falling for the Commander.





	Complicated

Lyla paces her balcony overlooking Skyhold, subconsciously clicking her fingers. Her stomach is in knots, which is ridiculous really, when she thinks about it. Not afraid of a massive tear in the sky, oh no, but afraid of this? Of what could happen? Yep.

Creators, how  _did_  she let this happen? A human -a _shem_ \- for goodness sake. An ex-Templar. The Commander of her Inquisition forces… no no  _no_ , this is all wrong. It’s all going to go horribly wrong.

She had been just sixteen when she had met her first human. Her clan had been incredibly reclusive, sticking to their ways and what they know, hardly ever travelling within 5 leagues of human settlements. But then a small group had arrived to respectively study Dalish magic and she had developed this crush (more like an infatuation, she muses) on one of the younger humans. He was so much taller than her with dark eyes that had entranced her. He was clearly experienced and had taken her by the hand after just one week and took her. She did not protest, she thought she was special that he had chosen her. Little did she know that, to him, she was nothing more than a free, exotic whore he wanted to sample. 

It’s only as the years passed that she looks back and knows that she was young, naive and a complete innocent to the ways of the human mind and body. She knew nothing but thought that her confused feelings were what was called ‘love’. It wasn't - if anything it was a spark of rebellious desire which she let take control until it left her hurt and alone.

From then, Lyla had been viewed differently by the clan she was had always seen as right, and as family. She thought she had belonged there, and in any case, she wanted to know more about humans and more about the young noble who had taken her innocence. It makes her angry to think that back then, she used to have these fantasies about meeting him in a human capital - Denerim perhaps - and being enthralled by her Dalish ways once more so they married and lived happily ever after. Lyla shudders at the thoughts of her younger self. Back then, she had been reading _far_ too many Fereldan fairy tales.

Lyla turns on her heel and heads to her wardrobe. Tugging the draws open, she peers inside, then shoves the draw closed and resumes pacing on the balcony. It’s a silly circle she’s found herself repeating for the last hour at least. What she was wearing is fine. Why was she even dithering about it? They see each other every day on business and matters of the Inquisition. Spoken across the war table. Played chess together. And yet her chest tightens at the thoughts of their stolen glances, the unspoken words between them, the excitement she feels when he looks at her, when he smiles, when their arms brush as they walk.

Her head is telling her to stay away, and to not fall. But she wants to. Oh, Creators, how much she wants to fall! To feel desired and wanted by another - it has been so long. And this is so different from anything else - she cannot let it slide... she cannot let it pass. If he does not feel the same, then no matter - at least it will be a question answered. Although, how she would feel if he rejects her confession…

But if he doesn’t reject her.  _If_. She bites her lip.  _If_  this became something and well,  _if_  it became something more, then everything would change. The past that she has been so desperate to be rid of… part herself from would be lost forever, with no turning back. Being intimate with a _shem_ was - in Dalish terms - forbidden. Sure, they didn't mind the odd liaison as long as it’s discreet, but to commit and bond with a human would mean sacrificing her clan and being only a Lavellan in name and nothing more. It makes things much more complicated.

She has to be practical. If there became a child involved… they would not be elven, but human. And yet as she tilts her head to the side musing, she knows that thought is not as scary as it once had been. She is well untruly in the human world now, as Inquisitor. If something did come to pass, perhaps it would help others overcome these inner conflicts.

Lyla leans over the balcony railing, letting her hair fall down her face. She peers down into the courtyard and the knot in her stomach tightens and flips when she sees the Commander in question walk through the garden from the gazebo. He waves to someone behind, which Lyla can only assume is Dorian, but she’s too far away to work it out. She watches from above as his figure disappears into the sheltered hallway.

Letting out a breath she didn’t know she was holding, Lyla walks down the balcony so she can just see the edge of the Commander’s tower. Moments later he appears on the walkway between the tower and Solas’ rooms, pausing at the door before stepping inside. He looks over his shoulder and looks up to where she stands, rooted to the spot. She knows he cannot see that she’s looking at him, so she stares back, hoping that the habitual rub on the back of his neck is because of her. Hoping that he’s having the same internal monologue that’s she’s struggling with.

Moments later, he turns and enters his office, closing the door behind him. Lyla clicks her fingers again and runs back into her rooms, pausing by the looking glass to run her fingers through her hair, before running down the steps of her chambers. It is now or never. She needs to tell him.

* * *

 

“You’ve got to tell her.”

Cullen rolls his eyes at the Tevinter mage sat opposite him. Dorian sits there with his legs crossed, a goblet of wine in his hands, and his expression completely smug.

“I know,” Cullen replies, moving his piece into check on the board.

There’s a surprised pause. “You do?”

Cullen stands and moves his winning piece in place. “Yes, I know. And I've just won - can I go now?”

“Hmm, only if you’re going to see the Inquisitor and confess your undying love.”

“Please stop.”

“Stop what?”

“You know what.”

“Never,” Dorian smirks, curling his moustache.

Cullen pinches the bridge of his nose. “I hope you don’t say things like this to her.”

“Oh, and what if I do?”

He ignores the bait. “I have work to do,” Cullen turns on the spot.

“Don’t forget to tell her, Commander!” Dorian calls after him and Cullen acknowledges it with a wave over his shoulder.

He walks quickly, his mind made up. How long has he been pondering over the possibilities? Cullen's pace quickens as he makes his way through the great hall, past Solas’s quarters and across the battlements to his tower.

The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end and he hesitates, his thumb on the latch to the door. She’s in his mind - constantly - and not for the first time, he looks over his shoulder to glance up at the tallest tower, where the Inquisitor’s private chambers overlook the whole keep. His breath catches when he sees her figure leaning over the balcony, looking down - it almost seems she’s looking straight back at him. He squints in the afternoon sun, but his eyesight cannot make out if she is, indeed, looking. Cullen clenches his jaw and tries not to imagine how he would feel if she were. If she  _is_  looking at him.

His legs feel heavy as he steps into his office and closes the door behind him. The number of times he has played this situation over in his mind…In frustration, he throws the rolls of reports on his desk and lowers himself into his chair. His vision is blurred and his eyes are tired, but it’s not the Inquisition work that keeps him up. It’s this whole situation he did not think he would find himself in again. It makes things much more complicated.

Cullen had been a young Templar when he had first met Reilyn Surana. They had become friends - back then, he knew that he had been a bit too relaxed around mages. He had seen them as people, just as he does now. Maker, what he would give to speak to his younger self and reassure him that things would work out? But things had been different then - it had been an innocent infatuation and a longing for the forbidden. And then when he had been assigned to be the Templar to deliver the killing blow if her Harrowing had gone awry… it’s only now that Cullen realises that it had been the beginning of the poisonous effect of the Order. Would he have done it? Of course, he would have.

He thinks of Lyla, of if they had met in a Circle. If he had been at  _her_  Harrowing, or if she was possessed, would he have been able to do it? It’s a thought that’s haunting him as he slips into the Fade each night. It’s a thought which he now knows the answer to - he wouldn’t be able to do it. It’s this that leaves him hesitant to get close and to let himself.

But things are different now. Neither of them are in a Circle, and he is not a Templar. That life is behind him. This, the Inquisition, is his life now and without a doubt, she is becoming such a big part of it. His eyes are always searching for her around the war table, in the gardens, on the battlements, even when he isn’t conscious he’s looking for her. He misses her when she is away for weeks at a time on Inquisition missions and gets this ridiculous excitement twist in his stomach when he sees her return on horseback, her face flushed and eyes bright.

The Inquisition won’t last forever… could this be something more? Can he let it be something more? He has no land, no titles apart from Commander. and yet, it does not daunt him. If she is at his side then it seems much brighter, much more manageable. Despite the hole in the sky, a future with her seems survivable. He has let himself want so little in his life: is it too much to ask to want this, to want her?  _Maker_ …

With a sigh, Cullen rises to his feet and picks up a random, unread report. Of course, the Maker is playing with him when it’s Lyla’s report that he picks up. Lyla’s handwriting he's looking over but not digesting. He wonders what she thinks when she writes her reports - does she think of the task at hand, or something more? Does she agonise over her reports to him, as much he does to her? Any other report writing is dull, tedious but a necessary evil but writing even the most mundane report to Lyla leaves him questioning every sentence, scribbling out words and debating whether or not he should add something personal.

A knock at the door pulls him out of his conflicted musings. And who walks in but her. The Maker works in strange ways. His breath catches at the sight of her in his doorway, her head cocked to the side and a shy smile on her face. He is smiling back at her, the reports forgotten as he gets to his feet. A heavy silence of unspoken words hanging between them.

He clears his throat. “I-Inquisitor,” he stammers, cursing himself silently. His mouth is dry as she approaches.

“I… thought we could talk… alone,” she says eventually, not meeting his gaze. Is he imagining things, but is she just as nervous as him?

His stomach flips. “Alone?” he repeats. “I-err-I mean, of course.”

A small smile as they walk out of his office to the battlements. A stolen glance between them as they walk together. He rubs his neck. Now is the time, he knows. It’s now or never.

“It’s a - nice day…”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos loved <3


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